


Of Tea and Etiquette (and Other Niceties)

by lost_spook



Series: Happy Endings, Hasty Exits [8]
Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Episode Tag, F/M, Serial: s091 The Talons of Weng-Chiang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-14
Updated: 2011-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-20 10:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The Talons of Weng-Chiang</i>: In which Litefoot and Jago both propose to the fair Amazon Leela and our heroine must decide between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Tea and Etiquette (and Other Niceties)

**Author's Note:**

> In this AU, the Doctor and Leela go back to Litefoot's for tea and muffins (instead of eating them in the street) to allow this to happen. Which they ought to have done anyway. The tea and muffins, I mean, not the surprise proposals.

Mr Henry Gordon Jago was having difficulty in getting down on one knee. It had been longer than one cared to dwell on since he had last endeavoured to do so. Nevertheless, he was not the sort of fellow to do these things by halves, so he persevered, puffing as he finally manoeuvred himself into the requisite position.

The fair damsel and object of his affections surveyed him with curiosity as she ate a muffin. “What are you doing? You look silly.”

“I, my dear,” he said, “am making a proposition – an overture of a romantic nature – and this is the traditional position. Never say that Henry Gordon Jago did not offer such a veritable Venus her proper adoration. Now, damme, if you haven’t put me off my stride. _Ahem_. You may say that it is precipitate, but I am -.”

“I do not think I would,” said Leela, after brief consideration. “What does precip-precipitate mean?”

He coughed. “M’dear, you’re ruining my patter. I was on the very verge of venturing to ask for the honour -.”

The door to the hallway opened and Professor Litefoot strode in, brightening as he saw Leela standing there. “Ah there you are, Miss Leela. I was worried you had gone while I was upstairs. Just the Doctor popping out for something, was it? Good. I had something important I wished to ask.”

Jago coughed again, more violently this time.

“Good grief, Henry, what are you doing down there? Are you hurt?”

Leela folded her arms. “I do not know. I do not understand a word he says and he is being ridiculous.”

He got to his feet, Litefoot giving him a hand. “Jade.”

“Steady on,” said Litefoot. Leela merely finished the muffin, evidently relieved that Jago had come to his senses.

“If you don’t mind, I would like a word in private with Miss Leela,” said the Professor.

“Oho, would you now?”

He blinked at him. “Well, yes. That is what I said.”

“Well, I am here and I am sure that one will not mind.”

Litefoot pulled her to one side. “Yes, but this is something of a private, personal matter, my dear. Oh well – no time for cowardice, eh? It’s probably not what you would wish – and certainly not something I had anticipated at this late stage in life, but I wondered whether you would do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

Jago had another coughing fit.

“Are you sure you are feeling well?” asked the Professor, turning. “Choking on a crumb, eh?”

“Dash it all, I was undertaking to ask for the fair lady’s hand and you waltz in and try to steal her from under my very nose!”

“Dear me,” said Litefoot. “You were?”

Leela looked from one to the other, the expression on her face flickering between definite amusement and innocence. “You _both_ wish to marry me? To – to mate with me?”

“No,” said Jago, wiping his sweating forehead with his handkerchief. “I mean, yes, but there’s no need to be so bally direct about it. You’ve no idea of the strain this sort of situation puts on a fellow.”

“Henry,” chided the professor. “Yes, it seems so, my dear.”

She frowned. “I cannot marry both of you?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Why, she asks! It’s out of the question!” gasped Jago.

She blinked. “It is? It thought that it might be the fairest way to decide, but you are right – such arrangements are rarely wise.”

Litefoot said, “And it would be against the law, among other things.”

“Then I must choose?”

“Yes.”

She nodded. “I shall think and then I shall decide.”

“Is it me,” asked Jago, loosening his tie, “or is the room spinning around in rather an unaccountable manner?”

Litefoot motioned him towards a chair. “I should sit down if I were you, Henry.”

Leela also took a seat, while Litefoot searched for the book he had been reading earlier. “Is there a way a lady should behave when she has just received two such offers?”

“It’s a bit late to start worrying about etiquette,” said Jago, having to mop his face again. “A lady wouldn’t receive two proposals at the same time. Talking of which, I have another venture that might suit. The unfortunate demise of the Celestial Chang leaves me with a vacancy in my programme and it strikes me now that your knife-throwing and other illustrious talents might draw in a few of the punters.”

Litefoot put down his book. “Surely you're not seriously suggesting that Miss Leela perform on stage?”

*

“Doctor,” said Leela, catching when he returned from obtaining a copy of _The Strand Magazine_. “I have decided to stay here and marry the professor. You do not mind, do you?”

He pushed back the deerstalker. “You want to do what?”

“Marry the professor,” she said. “Mr Jago asked me as well, but I do not think his heart was in it.”

He stared. “Are you telling me that two grown, respectable Victorian gentlemen proposed to you over a pot of tea and some buttered muffins? Don’t be preposterous!”

“They did,” she said, her face darkening. “I do not lie.”

“No, no, of course not, but it is preposterous.” He guffawed at the idea.

Leela put her hands on her hips. “It is not funny.”

“Oh, it is, Savage, it is.”

*

Professor George Litefoot glanced up as Leela returned to the room. She closed the door behind her and said, “I have made up my mind. I shall stay here and marry you.”

“Good grief. You will?”

“I would not say so otherwise.”

He noted, distracting himself from his own moment of panic at this unexpected acceptance, that she seemed notably more subdued than she had been at any other time.

“Mr Jago is very kind to ask but I do not think he meant it.” She paused and then looked at him directly. “The Doctor says you did not mean it, either. He said it was out of the question that a respectable gentleman would propose to me.”

“Did he? That’s not altogether kind of him. I would hardly have asked if I hadn’t meant it,” he continued, hoping it was the truth. “Rather a foolish thing to do, I can’t help thinking. If it troubles you, I help the police in their investigations by examining dead bodies. Some people might not consider me to be a gentleman.”

He experienced another brief spell of the nerves, being a trifle uncertain as to what he did next in this situation, but he stifled it. He considered that matter not without some amusement. After all, he was no coward and really, one had to admit that – horrible murders and villains from the future aside – it could be somewhat uneventful back in England at times. “Does he refuse his permission?”

She laughed at that, happier again. “It is not his to refuse. I am grown and I need ask no one what I may do.”

Dash it all, he thought, it was going to be something of an alarming adventure. Precisely what he needed to keep from growing staid and dull. Still, he caught himself before he got carried away, wondering if she knew what she was doing. “You are sure? I was never much of a catch and I’m no youngster – thought I’d stay a bachelor.”

Leela laughed and crouched at his side as he sat in the chair. “You are a good man; you are not stupid and you have courage. In my tribe, white hairs are a cause for pride. Only the most cunning and strong last so long. Is it not so among your people?”

“In some ways,” he admitted, being no stranger to mortality figures, improved though they were these last few years. “I thought it only right to point it out, my dear. And what of Mr Jago?”

She shrugged. “He may have believed he was serious, but I am sure he would not want me to accept his offer.”

“No, about performing,” he said. “On stage.”

She said, “I do not think I wish to. Fighting is not a game. You know this place better than I and you think it unwise. I will be guided by your advice.”

“I must say I’m relieved to hear it. Good Lord,” he added, unable to help himself, since he had thought until now that she was something of a law unto herself.

Leela looked at him. “There is one thing, Professor.”

“George,” he said. “Now that we are engaged, you are permitted to call me George.”

She blinked. “Why should I wish to call you George?”

“Because that’s my name,” he told her.

She took this in with a nod. “Very well. There is still one thing.”

“What is that?”

She said, “You may think me very stupid, but I am afraid I still do not understand about tea. Do you think you could explain it again?”

“My pleasure,” he told her with a smile. “So I say, do you take tea, Miss Leela?”

“And I say yes?”

“You say yes…”

*

“Jade,” said Jago with a shake of the head, once he heard. Then he went off to the Alhambra, where he’d heard there was a cunning trapeze artist who might be persuaded to enter a new contract by a spot of well-placed praise and admiration and the prospect of a few extra pennies.


End file.
